


Waterfall

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Just a moment at home.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 15
Kudos: 116





	Waterfall

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Though Jim will never admit it, both Bones and Spock are mostly right—he’s not suited for rest and relaxation. He belongs in the captain’s chair, even after several months of an incredibly trying mission that had the rest of his crew crying for a break. Shore leave on Earth is something most look forward to. Jim obeys the chain of command, but he spends his mornings on the front porch of his new cabin in Iowa, staring up at the stars. 

He spends his evenings in the kitchen, putting together coffee—real, _fresh_ coffee—because his circadian rhythm just can’t get used to a real sun. It’s grown dark outside the windows, the stars _almost_ out, and he can hear the quiet pitter-patter of rain against the roof. It’s a small, quaint house, nothing much to speak of—nothing like the flashy San Francisco apartments of most Terran captains. But it suits Jim just fine. He has enough of modern _flashiness_ aboard his beloved Enterprise. On Earth, he’s just a simple man again.

Sometimes he thinks of getting a place on Vulcan, though there’s only one person he’d really fit in with, but it’s just too hot there to bother. The rain’s brought with it a soft chill that Jim finds refreshing. The house itself is kept too hot. When he’s finished pouring the coffee into two cups, Jim heads out for the back deck. 

He makes it into the living room and pauses, gaze cast out across the dark room to the open sliding door. Spock stands on the porch. His slender back is facing Jim, arched forward over the railing, his chin tilted up towards the stars—Jim can see the crest of his perfect hair. The awning protects him from the rain, though he’s leaning forward into it. There’s a curtain of clear water obscuring the view of the sprawling hills beyond. 

The first thing Jim thinks is that his _t’hy’la_ must be cold. He can feel that through their bond—Spock’s subtle discomfort—the knit sweater that he’s borrowed from Jim isn’t enough. But he’s outside anyway, because he finds the weather _fascinating_ —Vulcan simply doesn’t get the drizzling showers that Earth frequently enjoys. Jim dares to probe a little deeper, feeling along that mental tether that always stretches between them, and there it is: Spock’s awe. This is a magical experience for him. It’s one of the most satisfying things of being with an alien: rediscovering such little things with whole new eyes. 

A shiver twists down Spock’s spine, but he doesn’t withdraw. Jim holds the remedy in his hands: a steaming cup of coffee that will keep them both up into the small hours of the night, curled up on the couch, reminiscing on old missions and what still lies in store. 

Content, Jim walks to his lover.


End file.
